


Lucky Stars

by MothTale



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Belly Rubs, Clint Barton Feels, Cute, Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Mentions of Animal Cruelty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 10:23:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19439512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MothTale/pseuds/MothTale
Summary: Clint gets railroaded by his kids, and now they're going to get a dog.





	Lucky Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I watch a lot of Animal Cops, which kinda led to this.
> 
> I wanted to write something quick and fluffy after my last story, and this idea was stuck in my head. Animals are awesome - I am very lucky to have a half-Siamese absolute trainwreck of a cat, and she brings me great joy (and also great pain - bitch never retracts her claws). She's almost totally blind, has three legs, one remaining tooth and if I took a video of her running in low light I think I could pass her off as a cyptid of some kind. She makes me happy, because life really has shat on her from a great height and yet she still enjoys herself - we joke about how she will outlive us all because Death has clearly decided he wants nothing to do with her. She has already outlived several of our younger cats. I could go on and on about this cat, but I'm going to stop now and let you get on with the story.
> 
> I hope you like it!

It had just been one mistake.

A single slip of the tongue.

And of course they’d pounced on it.

He’d been tired - he’d stayed awake and alert for almost two days straight on his perch, and really he’d have said almost anything if it meant he could finally close his eyes and sleep.

So it’d happened.

He didn’t fully understand what it was he had done until the following morning, when he’d been jumped on and woken up at the crack of dawn.

‘We’re going to get a puppy!’ Cooper had yelled.

Clint had looked at Laura and she had mouthed the words he’d said the night before.

‘Maybe tomorrow.’

_Shit._

Of course ‘maybe’ meant ‘yes’, and so here he was being woken with the morning light by two squealing, excitable infants who were convinced they were going to get a dog.

He had two options.

Try and make clear the semantics of the word ‘maybe’ - and how in this instance it actually meant ‘no’.

Or they could get in the truck, and go to an animal shelter.

\--

‘Cooper, stop!’

Clint reached out and grabbed the back of his son’s shirt.

‘No running when there are cars around. Geez. Come on, hold my hand.’

The boy did as he was told, albeit with his shoulders slumped and threatening a sulk.

He perked up as soon as they went through the doors marked ‘Adoptions’ though. Lila was fussing in her mom’s arms, wanting to be put down so she could see the animals better.

They went through a door marked ‘Dogs’ and all of a sudden there were rows and rows of kennels.

The noise had Clint reaching to readjust his hearing aids - non-stop barking from every corner of the place, all yelling ‘notice me’ ‘notice me’, ‘pick me!’ ‘please, oh please, pick me.’

The desperation was all around them, along with the smell of fur and shit and cleaning products.

All the kids saw were the furry faces, the wagging tails, the adorable, pleading eyes.

They were off at once, in search of puppies, dragging their mom with them.

Laura looked back over her shoulder, and Clint signed that she should stay with the kids. Of course she could tell he wasn’t feeling good, she could always tell, and he wanted to reassure her that he’d be okay. He just needed to rest, a chance to change the setting on his brain from Hawkeye, assassin and secret agent, to Clint Barton, husband and father.

He started to wander down the rows, looking into each of the kennels at the occupants.

Most jumped up, their tails wagging fast like a window wiper in a rainstorm.

On the front of the kennels were little cards with the name of the animal, and other bits of information which might appeal to a prospective owner. I’m good with children. I can live with cats. Would like to be the only pet in a home.

Clint couldn’t help but be reminded of a building full of kids, unwanted or badly treated like these dogs, all desperate for a proper home. You knew it was too late, that you were too old, too broken for anyone to take you. But kids still hoped, still dreamed about a house with their own room, where the adults remembered their names and they had birthday parties with cake and presents.

He heard a whine to his left.

A golden-brown labrador retriever was lying on the floor of his kennel, his jaw resting on the ground.

He was looking right at Clint.

Unlike the rest of the dogs he’d seen, the brown lab didn’t jump up. There was a slight wiggle to his butt, but no tail wagging.

Clint crouched down near the mesh of the kennel door.

‘What’s the matter boy?’ he said, extending his hand for the dog to sniff.

He only had one eye, the other sealed over with puckered, pinkish scar tissue. The remaining eye was focused on Clint.

Like someone had flipped a switch he was up, and the tail was wagging, but he didn’t run and throw himself at the mesh, dancing up on his hind-legs desperate for some kind of attention. He just stood there, waiting.

Clint glanced up at the information card.

‘You gotta be kidding…’ he said.

‘Arrow’, the card read. And then in brackets afterwards ‘Lucky’.

If you asked him to his face if he was superstitious, if he believed in fate or signs, then Clint would have laughed.

But the thing was he’d grown up in a circus, surrounded by old world stories and all the folklore of a theatrical people - all wrapped up in a sort of worldly cynicism. You were stupid if you trusted in signs and omens to guide your way, but you were stupider still if you ignored them completely.

The universe was clearly telling him he needed to have a closer look at this dog.

He slipped his fingers through the holes in the metal and gave the dog an awkward scratch behind the ears. The dog leaned into him and Clint smiled.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, drew his hand back and stood up.

A girl wearing a t-shirt with the shelter’s name on it and carrying a broom smiled at him.

‘Hi,’ she said. He knew she’d clocked the hearing aids - it was difficult not to, they were bright purple - because her voice was louder than necessary and she exaggerated the word like she was in an elocution lesson. She saw which kennel he was standing in front of and the smile got brighter.

‘Are you interested in Lucky?’

Clint didn’t get much of a chance to say either yes or no before she was off.

‘The name on the collar was Arrow, but the staff here all call him Lucky because he is. He’s one of our cruelty cases. His owners,’ and the word was loaded with contempt, ‘threw him out into traffic. It’s a miracle he wasn’t killed right there. We didn’t know if he’d pull through after the surgery, and you can see that he’s missing an eye, but he’s a fighter.’

‘Seriously?’ Clint said. ‘Please tell me that the guy who did that is in jail right now?’

The girl shook her head. ‘They were from out of town. We couldn’t trace them. We only know what happened because witnesses told us. He’s a really sweet dog though, everyone here loves him, but with the eye I guess he’s not really cute. People come here and they want puppies, not older dogs and especially not ones who are a little busted looking.’

Clint wanted to contend the ‘busted’ comment, on behalf of the busted community, but rubbed the back of his neck instead.

‘Actually that’s where my wife and kids are right now. Looking at the puppies.’

‘Oh,’ the girl said. She tried to hide her disappointment, but it was obvious.

Clint was aware of Lucky looking at them, like he understood what they were saying. Clint heard him whine. Bastard was really twisting the knife.

He heard the loud patter of familiar footsteps, looking around in time for Lila to collide with his shins.

‘Hey, pumpkin, where’s your mo--?’ Clint started.

She talked so fast the words got muddled, but Clint got the gist. They had seen puppies. Puppies were cute. He needed to come see the puppies too. Right now.

He peeled her off his leg and picked her up.

Lucky wagged his tail, peering at this new, mini-human. Lila saw the movement and looked. Her nose wrinkled and she made a noise.

‘Daddy, his face is icky,’ she said.

Lucky seemed to know she was talking about him and he sank back down to the floor looking dejected.

‘His owners were mean to him, and he got hurt bad. The nice people here saved him,’ Clint explained.

Lila’s eyes went wide. She looked back at the dog, and then back at Clint. She pouted, like she was trying to puzzle it out.

‘Why?’ she demanded.

She was barely three years old, and this was her first experience of the kind of craphole side of the world that Clint knew all too well.

‘I don’t know why, sweetheart. I guess they didn’t want him anymore.’

Lila frowned, and then she was wriggling wanting to be put down.

‘Poor doggy,’ she said, sitting in front of Lucky’s kennel with a sigh.

‘Lila!’

Laura appeared at the end of the row, pulling Cooper along behind her. Clint saw the panic morph into relief and then annoyance when she saw their daughter.

‘Did you run off without telling your mom?’ Clint said, looking down at the toddler by his feet.

Lila didn’t answer, staring up at Clint with a glum, guilty look which spoke for itself.

‘You don’t do that, honey. We need to know where you are so we know you’re safe.’

Lila nodded.

‘Sorry,’ she mumbled.

‘Daddy, we found one! His name’s Patch and he’s--’ Cooper grabbed onto Clint’s leg, jumping up and down.

He did the same as his sister, glancing and catching sight of Lucky.

‘Daddy, why’s that dog only got one eye?’

Lila butted in, telling Cooper that his mean, nasty owners had cut out his eye and he was a poor doggy.

‘I don’t know that that’s exactly what happened,’ Clint said, looking towards the staff member who was still there watching them.

She crouched down in front of Cooper.

‘He got hit by a car, and the vet had to remove his eye because it was too badly damaged. But he’s okay now.’

Cooper asked more questions - the hows and whys.

Meanwhile Laura was looking everything over. She spotted the name on the cage, raised an eyebrow, and looked back at Clint.

He could tell she knew everything that had happened, how Lucky had hooked him in and was tugging at his heartstrings.

_Just admit you want the dog_ , she signed.

_I want the dog._

She nodded, and then turned to the girl trying her best to explain the concept of animal cruelty in an age appropriate way to a rather sheltered six year old.

‘Can we take him out of the kennel for a bit?’ Laura asked.

The smile was back on the girl’s face.

‘Absolutely,’ she said.

\--

They ended up in a small side room with a pile of dog toys in one corner.

It was painfully obvious that neither of his kids had ever played with a dog. They petted him but kept glancing back at Clint and Laura to check what they were doing was right.

Lucky was calm. He didn’t try to bowl the kids over, or slobber all over their faces. He lay there, accommodating Lila and Cooper’s hesitant rubs and pats. After a while he rolled over onto his back.

‘Here, rub his belly like this,’ Clint said, kneeling down next to the kids.

The look on Lucky’s face had him grinning from ear to ear. He didn’t even realise he’d been talking to the dog, a litany of ‘good boy’s and other praises, until he glanced up and saw Laura smiling at him.

‘You know who’s gonna end up looking after this dog, right?’ she said, when Clint went back to stand with her, brushing dog hair off his pants.

She’d been kind of annoyed about his slip-up, but she couldn’t blame him for being tired, and she hadn’t stepped in to stop it.

‘I know, I’m sorry, but look at that face. Can you say no to that?’

Laura didn’t look at Lucky, instead putting her palm against Clint’s cheek.

‘Guess I can’t.’

Clint heard his kids squeal with delight.

‘Holy sh--...is he _teaching_ them to play fetch?’ Laura said.

Lucky had picked up a small, squishy ball and had deposited it in front of the Cooper. Cooper then rolled it away, and Lucky trotted to go pick it up and put it back in front of them. Lila was saying ‘Again, again,’ and giggling. Cooper seemed amazed and surprised each time the ball came back to him. Clint wasn’t sure who was enjoying themselves more.

‘Oh, that is adorable,’ Laura said, and Clint knew Lucky had her too.

‘Guess I better go find someone and tell them that we’ve made a decision,’ Clint said. ‘Kids, are we taking him home?’

Even without his hearing aids, he was sure he would have heard the response.

‘Geez, inside voices guys.’

\--

Adoption fee paid. Paperwork signed. A few essentials bought and Lucky was in the back of the truck with them.

He stuck his head out of the window, like a stereotypical dog, tongue lolling out and catching the breeze.

Clint could have sworn the dog did a double take when they all got out back at the house. He looked at the wide open spaces, perfect for running in, a porch just perfect for lazing on during hot summer days, the woods in the distance just begging to be explored - it must have seemed like a paradise, and that was only outside.

Clint hadn’t decided on whether Lucky was to be an outdoor only pet, or if he was going to be allowed run of the house as well. Clint kinda liked the idea of sitting on the couch with the reassuring weight of the animal on him, the warmth and steady heartbeat. He didn’t know if Laura felt the same.

The dog was stood there, alert and probably getting to grips with all the new smells everywhere. Clint gave him a gentle scratch behind the ear.

‘Welcome to your new home, bud.’

\--

The matter of whether Lucky was an indoor or outdoor pet was finally settled a few months later. Clint was on a SHIELD assignment when he checked his phone and saw a selfie from his wife.

_Think your dog misses you almost as much as I do._

Lucky was sprawled out on his side of the bed, on top of the covers, head on the pillow. Laura was next to him, bundled up in the duvet with a seriously cute case of bedhead.

_Either that or he’s trying to replace you. Watch out! Xxx._

The next day he got another picture. Lucky, on the couch, wearing a pair of his sunglasses and with one of his shirts draped over him.

_It’s starting! Stay safe. Xxx._

It had been a tough day, people were dead, but that one stupid picture put a smile on his face.

It became a regular thing after that. When he had the chance he’d check his phone and there would always be at least one Lucky picture to make him smile.

_We drove forty miles for this pizza. Turned my back for just thirty seconds and this happened. :( Xxx._

Lucky, lying on the kitchen floor with a pizza box flattened under his paws, surrounded by pieces of crust and scraps of pepperoni.

_Who needs blankets when you have a dog. Xxx._

Laura and the kids on the couch with Lucky lying lengthways across their laps.

She sent videos sometimes.

_Your dog does not understand snow!! I almost peed my pants laughing. Xxx._

Lucky, stood on the back porch, barking at the flurries of snowflakes all around him. He could hear Laura laughing on the audio.

‘Oh my god, Lucky. Lucky, no, sweetie it’s not...oh my god…’

At some point it went from ‘your dog’ to ‘the dog’ and finally ‘our dog’.

_Cooper’s feeling a little sick so the dog is keeping him company. He’s been sat with him all day. Xxx._

_So our dog is shedding...This was clean two hours ago. Just look at the state of it now. Xxx._

And whenever Clint came home, it was an all-out race between the kids and the dog as to who would get to him first.

He knew he was home when he felt all those bodies collide with his own, pressing against bruises and healing injuries but somehow he never cared.

And then when he sat down Lucky would come and sit on him, and refuse to move until he was bribed. He’d give Clint these knowing looks, and Clint knew it was true what people said about the animal choosing you rather than you choosing them. When he woke up and he knew it was going to be a bad day, Lucky was there. He nudged his hand with his nose or pestered Clint until he played with him. Sometimes he just snuggled up next to him, and the warmth of him made Clint feel like he wasn’t alone.

‘We’re kind of the same, hey buddy?’ Clint said, rubbing Lucky’s side. ‘People didn’t want us - tried to get rid of us - but we showed them, didn’t we?’

Lucky made a noise, a rumble of satisfaction that almost seemed like an agreement.

‘We showed them.’


End file.
